DEC 8 1900 
DEIRDRE WED 

THE ROCK OF CLOUD 

SHE COMES NOT WHEN THE NOON 
IS ON THE ROSES 




BY 



HERBERT TRENCH 



NEW YORK 
THE MERSHON COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



DEIRDRE WED 

* 

THE ROCK OF CLOUD 
SHE COMES NOT WHEN THE NOON 
IS ON THE ROSES 



BY y 

HERBERT TRENCH 



NEW YORK 
THE MERSHON COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



\ 



86012 



L)bf«ry of Congress 

Iwu Copies Received 
DEC 8 1900 

Copyrigtlt entry 

SECOND COPY 

OefivBfofl to 
OHOtK DIVISION 

DEC 22 1900 



TR 



-^^ 






Copyright, iqoo, 

BY 
HERBERT TRENCH. 






^ DEIRDRE WED. 

/ stood on the hill of Time, when the sun zms fled 
And my vision sought where to rest till it knezi; the 

plains 
Of my country, the Night's harp, and the moonless bed 
Of rivers and bristling forests and sea-board chains. 

And from many a chanter's mound {none is nameless 

there) 
Could I hear, amid rumour eternal, the voiceascend: 
With the bones of man endureth his boating hair, 
And the song of his spirit on earth is slow to end. 

Speak to me, speak to me, Fintan, dark in the south; 
Urmacl, lying in the zvest; and thou, Cir, under the 

pole; 
Some chant that ye made, who never spake mouth to 

mouth, 
But over the ridge of ages from said to soul. 

And a strain came out of Dun Tulcha, the yezi;s' shores. 
From Fintan, the elder than yezt^s, the too old for tears, 
" Let us tell him of Dcirdre zved; that his heart's doors 
Resound, as when kings arrive, with the trees of 
I spears." 



VOICE OF FINTAN. 

It was the night of marriage. Word had passed, 
Tokens been sent to every rath and ring 
And every fastness on the woody knolls 
Green about Eman, of the slaughter made 
Of sheep and boar, of badger and of stag, 
Reddening the ways up to the kingly house — 
Of sheep and goats and of the stintless food 
That should be poured out to his beggary 
By Connachar, that all time should remember 
The night he wed the woman Gelban found. 
Yonside of Assaroe the swineherd found her, 
Bred in a peaty hillock of the west 
By one old hag. Though tribeless she and wnld — 
Barefoot, and in the red wool chasing cattle, 
Connachar saw and took, biding his time, 
A.nd let queens give her skill the winter long 
In webs and brews and dyes and broideries. 
Up to this night of marriage. Fabulous, 
O friends, and dark, and mighty, was his house, 
The beam-work in its dome of forest-trunks — 
They that had been the chantries of the dawn. 
And blackened songless for a thousand years — - 
But never since they swayed leaf in the glens 
Had those spars felt below so fierce a breath 



DEIRDRE WED. 3 

Rich with the vapour of the boar. For now 
Hundreds with ruddy-ghstering faces ran 
Jostling round the nine shadow^s of the blaze, 
And spread with skins the lengthy beds of men 
xA.nd soused warm spice of herbs in ale. Here, thither, 
Was rousing of age-slumbered horns, arranging 
Smooth benches through the house, strawing of rushes; 
And cauldrons seethed before the empty throne, 
Set high in the shadow of the wall — still bubbling 
Inaudible, impatient for the king. 

And while outside the black roof on the mount 

Outwafted was the gold divinity 

With swooning wings, the Lake of Pearls below 

Was curdling with the unseen seed of rain. 

And on the hillside, where the rampart-line 

Dips lowest to the lakew^ard, Deirdre stood, 

Hearing from distant ridges the faint bleat 

Of lambs perturb the dusk, bleats shivering out 

I ike wool from thorns; there the young Deirdre stood, 

Even she whose lingering beauty pales the world. 

Looking far off on hills whence she was come. 

Mountains, tha.t lift the holiness of fire, 

Fortitudes, ye that bear the brunt of fate, 

Send her across the bog a little cloud 

Full of the ancient savours, full of peace. 

And for its drops she will hold up her heart, 

O ye that stand in heaven, far removed ! 

She spoke aloud. Wherefore vv^ere greens so bare 
That but an hour asfo shook with the tread 



4 DEIRDRE WED. 

Of racers and of hiirlers? Vv^as it late? 

The wrinkled nurse replied: Had the child eyes? 

Back from a hosting and a desperate prey 

Of corn and mares and rustless brass and beeves 

Naois and rest of Usnach's sons 

Were come. She had seen him weary go but now 

Heavily up the steep through the king's hedge. 

Now on the hill-top as the woman spoke, 

It was so. Hanging on the young, man's lips 

The hosts swayed round him; and, above the hosts, 

Connachar, glittering all in torques of gold 

And writhen armlets, listened from the mound 

Of judgment, by the great oak at his door. 

His beaked helm took the sunset, but he held 

His flint-red eyes in shadow and averse. 

And when before him, dark as a yoiung pine, 

Unmoved the son of Usnach had told all : 

How half his folk had perished in the task 

By plagu.e or battle, yet how scant a spoil 

Was driven home, the king cried, Paragon ! 

We must go griddle cakes in honey for him, 

Bring lavers of pale gold to wash ofif blood 

So precious to us. Since for many moons 

This chamipion had foregone the face of softness, 

And stretched his hungers to the sleety rock, 

Call in the smile of women to unlatch 

From his doughty ribs the iron: Faugh! Away! 

Let Usnach 's sons take out again that night 

Their sorry clans, their piteous cattle thence: 

Defeated men should see his gates no more. 



DEIRDRE WED. 5 ] 

And the son of Usnach turned and went. He ran ; 

Downhill and to the loch to wash his wounds. , i 

Chanting he strode, tossing a brace of spears ] 

Lest we should think him humbled. Halfway down •! 

The shapes of women loitered in the dusk i 

And one held backward out her arms to take ; 

The latchets of a cloak. But as Naois \ 
Passed by them, nearly as is heard a sigh, 

Still with his vehement mood set on the flood ,; 
Glancing not right nor left, O then I saw, . ] 

I saw the stiff cloak many-coloured sink J 

Slow to the grass, v/rinkling its blazoned skins I 

Behind her. Gloom sucked in the banqueters. ! 

And in the warmth of drinking at his feast \ 

Connachar sent forth to the women's house j 
And heralds bade bring also the gray seer 

Cathva, though Cathva had not willed to come. i 

Hardly had hotfoot messengers gone out '< 

When the door-hide rose, and the gray seer came in, '! 

NoiseSess. He was of fog the night hath spun, ■ 

Earth in his hair and on his meagre cheek, \ 

Consumed and shaking, ragged as seaweed, \ 

And to the throne he cried : " Why hast thou called ] 

Me to carousal ? Is this bed mv work? i 

Too great a clearness underneath the thunder | 
Shewed insupportably the things to be: 

Too long have I with glamours, drops, and runes, ! 
Shook round her cabin low my skirts of storm, 

To shield thee from that devastating face. 1 

My fault is only that I slev/ her not. J 

Know ! it was I, that, seeing her cradled limbs | 



6 DEIRDRE WED, 

Bright with disaster for the reahiis and thee, 

Flung her away among the utmost mountains. 

But Muilrea to Ben Gorm said: ' What is this? 

What glee is this disturbs our desolation ? 

I hear another than the wild duck sheering 

Sidelong the wind. Tall as a rush is she, 

And whiter than the foam that stripes the lakes.' 

And Domnhan answered : ' We are sick alone, 

Let us distil the heavens into a child; 

Yea, let our bones appear, the black goat starve 

Upon our heads, yet shall this human seed 

Superabound with soft life we forego. 

Silence shall come to heart, silver of mists, 

And the blue depth of gorges.' Connachar, 

T heard the plotters, but I let her live." 

And the king asked: " Hath any seen her there? " 

And Cathva answered, *' Till thy servant found her 

She knew not that men were." Then Connachar 

Commanded yet again: " Bring us in Deirdre." 

StraighL\\'ay we saw a woman, bent and old, 

With large and innocent and childlike eyes. 

Stand up beyond the fire. Her fingers played 

Ceaselessly with a red stone at her breast. He asked 

" Who gave thee, hag, the jewel at thy neck? " 

Now every drinker from the darkest stalls 

Perceived the brooch was Deirdre's, and a gift 

"l\) her from Connachar. Aghast, the v/oman 

Fumbled at her sere breast, and wept and said : 

" It was a gift to me, O Connachar, 

This night." And he, consummate lord of fear, . 

Our never-counselled lord, the forest-odoured, 



DEIRDRE WED. 7 

Smiled, though within the gateway of his fort, 

A surmise, hke the stabber 'neath a load 

Of rushes, crept. " Fix up the pin, Levarcham, 

For she that loses such a brooch will grieve. 

Why comes not Deirdre? " '' Sir, she is not yet 

Fully arrayed, and so is loth to come." 

O, then believe me, all the floor was hush, 

But a mad discordancy like fifes, drums, brasses, 

Bondmen of old wars on the wind set free, 

Shook every beam and pillar of the house. 

And the king said — '' Thou hear'st out of the marsh 

Scream of my stallions mounting on the gale? " 

And she said, '' Yea." " Thou knowest round these 

walls 
How many chariots now are tilted up ? " 
And she said, '' Yea." " Then, woman, bring with 

haste 
Deirdre, thy charge, into this presence now. 
Or limb from limb upon the pleasant grass 
Those wheels shall parcel thee at dawn." And she 
Lifted her hands and closed her eyes and sang, 
" She will come back, but I, I shall not bring her ! 
O rainbow breathed into the dreadful pine, 
Why art thou gone from me? Sweeter to me 
Than the sobbing of the cuckoo to the shore. 
Why art thou gone from me? " She bowed and v/ept. 
And Connachar came from the throne and grasping. 
As if he felt no heat, the cauldron's brims, 
Leaned, through its steams watching the nurse, and 

said : 
" Will these marrow-melting tears bring Deirdre in? " 



8 DEIRDRE WED. 

But she looked up and said: '' How shall I bring her? 

Look now outside thy door, O Connachar; 

The strong oak with the vision-dripping boughs, 

Whose foot is on thy fathers' neck of pride. 

Staggered as I came up in the night blast. 

In vain it shakes its anger at the sky. 

It cannot keep the white moon from escape 

To sail the tempest; nor, O king, canst thou." 

And the face of him that listened grew thrice pale 

And his thick nostrils swelled, his half-closed eyes 

Fanged fire, and slow dilated. Stubbornly 

He clutched to steady his convulsive frame 

The sea-full cauldron; quick with efforts vast 

Upheaved and swung and pillared it on high. 

And hoarsely bade, " Take torches." Every man 

Kindled in silence at the hearth divine. 

Then Connachar poured out upon the blaze 

The flood within the vat. The roofs were filled 

With darkness and with hissings and with smoke. . . 



VOICE OF cm. 

As a horseman bursts on a gulf between high dawn- 
vapoured woods 
And strands of sea-wrack, where out on the ebbed brim, 
Walking on cloud and azure, stretch multitudes 
Of the flame- white people of gulls to the sky-line dim, 

All breast to the sun, — and his hoofs expand the deso- 
late strait 
Into fevers of snows and endlessly-wandering cries. 
Even so, chanters divine, in some woman's fate 
At coming of him to be ioved do her dreams arise. 

But Deirdre, the exquisite virgin, pale as the coat of 

swans, 
Took the flame of love in her heart at the time of dew 
And clad her in ancient wool from a coffer of bronze 
And walked in the chill of night, for her soul was new. 

Why thick with the berries of sweetness, ye barren 

thorns of the sprmg, 
I could drink up this tempest cold as a burning wine. 
Why laugh, my grief, for art thou not bride of a king. 
And the drinkers drink to a couch arrayed to be thine ? 



lo DEIRDRE WED. 

I 
And she laid on the house Bron Bhearg, the warriors' 

hive of stones, 
Where the wounded toss without sleep, her cheek to 

the wall, 
And bless'd them by stealth, with no pang at the sound 

of their groans, j 

Having that in her rich heart which could heal them 

all. 



To the fortress gate on the steep that looketh tow^ard 

Creeve Roe 
She fled and spied, not a sling-cast off, the flare 
Of a torch, and the skull fixed over the gate. And lo, 
To the right hand watchmen paced by the vvater there. 



And the men of the guard, with a mock, laid spears in 

their passage house 
Athwart, for who was this phantom over the grass 
Like a filcher of food? And Deirdre uncovered her 

brows 
And cried: " I am Deirdre! " And sullen they gave 

her the pass. 



And towards Creeve Roe the dip of the cuckoo's vale 

was dark 
To blindness. She phicked her steps on tliat miry road 
Through copses alive with storm, tih at length a spark 
Shewed the foro-e where the smith on the heroes' vv 

abode. 



DEIRDRE WED. ii 

Now Culann the smith was wise, and leaping her spirit 

stirred 
At the soft roar of his hide-winged fire as it soared : 
''Has the son of Usnach passed?" ''Yea, gone 

back! " With the word 
He smote on a tongue of iron to make him a sword. 

And the argentine din of anvils behind her steadily 

dwindling 
The woman fled to the wastes, till she came to a thorn 
Black, by the well of a God, with stars therein kindling 
And over it rags fluttering from boughs forlorn. 

And she knelt and shore with a knife a lock of her 

deathless hair 
And leashed the black-shuddering branch with that 

tress and pray'd : 
" Sloe-tree, thou snow of the darkness, O hear my 

prayer, 
And thou, black Depth, bubble-breather, vouchsafe 

thine aid. 

" From Connachar's eyes of love let me hide as a gray 

mole : 
Sons of the earth's profound, put a shade over me. 
I have looked on a face and its kindness ravish'd my 

soul. 
But deliverance passed, I turn for escape unto ye." 

And loud as the sloven starlings in winter whistle and 

swarm 
Came the remnant of Usnach nigh, thrice fifty strong. 



12 DEIRDRE WED. 

As they drove from Eman away on that night of 

storm 
And Naois spoke with his brothers behind the throng — 

''O Aillen, O Ardan, hark! What cry was that? 

For some cry 
Rang on my soul's shield; hark! hear ye it now? " 
But they reined not their weary chariots, shouting 

reply, 
" It was fate, 'twas the curst hag that lies crouched on 

a bough." 

Tossing they drove out of sight, Naois the last, and his j 

hood, I 

Rain-dripping, mantled the wind. One ran like a roe 

And called on that great name from the night-bound \ 

vv'c^od, I 

" Leave me not, it is with thee tliat my heart would \ 

go!" ' 

And his brothers cried, " Halt not, the host of the air 

makes moan. 
Or a gang of the wild geese going back to the lake " ; 
But Naois reared up the deep-ribbed Sron, " Good 

Sron, 
Thou and I needs must turn for our fame's sake." 

And he heard a voice: " Son of Usnach, take me to be 

thy wife!" 
He bent from the withers, the blaze of her trembling 

drew 

( 



DEIRDRE WED. 13 

The breath from his Hps, and the beat from his heart's 

life, 
And he said, '' Who art thou, Queen? " But himself 

knew, 

And muttered, '' Return, return, unto him that I hate. 

For know 
Him least of all I rob, least of all that live." 
But she cried : '* Am I then a colt, that ye snare from a 

foe 
With a bridle's shaking? I am mine own to give." 

'' Thy beauty would crumble away in the spate of my 

wild nights, 
And famine rake out thine embers, the lean paw 
Of jeopardy find thee; he is not rich in delights 
Whose harp, like mine, is the fell in the winter's flaw." 

And she laid her arm round the neck of Sron : '' Hast 

heard 
Horse swollen-veined from battle, insulter of death, 
Whose back is only a perch for the desert bird, 
Whose fore-hooves fight, whose passage is torn with 

teeth; 

" And dost thou not shudder ofif the knees of a master 

deaf 
To the grief of the weak ? " And the lad, deeply moved, 

rejoins ; 
" Mount then, O woman, behind me," — and light as a 

leaf, 
Drawing her up from his foot to the smoking loins. 



r^ 



14 DEIRDRE WED. 

Shook loose the ox-hide bridle. Even as the great gull 

dives 
From Muilrea's moon-glittering peak, when the sky is 

bare, 
Scraped naked by nine days' wind, and sweepingly 

drives 
Over night-blurred gulfs and the long glens of the air. 

And feels up-tossing his breast an exhaustless breath 

bear on 
Spouted from isleless ocean to aid his flight, 
So fiercely, so steadily galloped the mighty Sron, 
Braced by that double burden to more delight. 

Though his mane wrapped a wounded bridle-hand, 

fast, fast, 
As giddy foam-weltering waters dashed by the hoof 
Flee away from the weirs of Callan, even so passed 
Dark plains away to the world's edge, behind and aloof. 

And the rider stooped and whispered amidst the thun- 
der of weirs 

Such sweetness of praise to his horse in the swirl of the 
flood 

That Sron twitched back for an instant his mooned 
ears 

Strain'd forth like a hare's, and his haunches up to the 
wood 

Wrested them. Beaks of magic, the wreckage of time, 

came out 
And talon'd things of the forest would waft and sway, 



I 



DEIRDRE WED. 15 

But Naois raised in his gallop a battle shout 

That scattered the thrilling wreath of his fears away. 

So they measured the Plain of the Dreamers, the^ 

Brake of the Black Ram, 
Till the Crag of the Dances before them did lift and 

loom, 
And the Meads of the Faery Hurlers in silver swam, 
Then up to the Gap of the Winds, and the far-seen tomb 

White on Slieve Fuad's side; by many a marchland 

old 
And cairn of princes — yea, to mine own bedside — 
They adventured. Think ye, sweet bards, that I could 

lie cold 
When my chamber of rock fore-knew that impassion'd 

stride? 

Had I, too, not plucked the webs of rain-sweet drops 

from the harp 
And torn from its wave of chords an imperishable love 
To sleep on this breast ? Here, through the mountain 

sharp, 
My grave-chamber tunnel'd is; and one door from 

above 

Westward surveys green territories, gentle with flowers 

and charm, 
But forth from the eastern face of the ridge is un- 

quelled 



1 6 DEIRDRE WED. 

Wilderness, besown with boulders and the grass of 
harm. 

And even in my trance could I feel those riders ap- 
proach and beheld 

Naois assault the ridge, to the wilderness setting his 

face 
Expectant, unconscious, as one whom his foes arouse. 
His heart was a forge, his onset enkindled space. 
He shook off the gusty leagues like locks from his 

brow^s. 

What should he reck oi Earth save that under his 

wounds he felt 
Stolen round him, as dreamy water steals round a 

shore, 
A girdle, the arms of Deirdre, clasp'd for a belt 
That terror of great kings should unlock no more ? 

I was caught from the grave's high gate as that spume- 
flaked ecstasy drew 

Upward, and winged like the kiss of Aengus, strove 

For utterance to greet them, encircling their heads that 
flew; 

But who loops the whirlwind's foot or outdreameth 
love ? 

He wheel'd round Sron on the crest. Abrupt he flung 

back a hand 
And spoke, " Dost thou know the truth ? look where 

night is low; 



DEIRDRE WED. 17 

Soon the ants of that mound shall shake the ledge 

where we stand; 
Now the tribes are summoned, the Night prepares his 

blow, 

*' His wrath spurts, hot from the trumpet — the main 

beacon flares. 
Now tackle the arrogant chariots — dogs in their glee 
Hang on the leash-slaves, numb in the cockcrow airs : 
Why, out of all that host, hast thou singled me? " 

I heard her behind him breathe : " Because out of all 

that host 
Aptest art thou in feats, held in honor more 
Than any save bright Cuchullain." He turned as one 

lost: 
''Is tliis time a time to mock? Are there not four 

score 

'' Better at feats than I, my masters, the noble teams 
The attemper'd knights of the Red Branch everyone ? 
Nay, though I knead up the whole earth in my dreams, 
Nought to such men am I, who have nothing done." 

1 I heard the blowings of Sron, and then lasting words : 

'' I choose 
Thee — wherefore? Ah, how interpret? To-day on 

the slope 
Running down to the reeds I saw thee at gloam of 

dews, 
And knew it was fated. It was not some leaf of hope 



1 8 DEIRDRE WED. 

" Uncertain. Thou wast the token — half of the potter's 

shard 
That a chief beleaguered cons in his desperate camp, 
Passed in by some hand unseen to the outmost guard, 
And fits to the other half by his wasted lamp. 

" Seeing thee, I knew myself to be shapen of the self- 
same clay — 

Half of the symbol; and broken, mayhap, to serve 

As language to them of the night from powers of the 
day." 

By the path of the throbbing Curlew no foot may 
swerve 

Where they rode through the Gap; and at last she mur- 
mured, " Dost grieve at me still? " 

And he said, *' Glorious is it to me that behind us pur- 
suit 

Shall be wide as the red of the morning; for thou art 
my will ; 

To the beach of the world of the dead and beyond it to 
boot 

'' Let me take and defend thee." In silence the hearts 

of the twain were screen'd, 
But crossing the mires and the torrents I saw strange 

ease 
Afloat, like a spark, on the wom.an's eyes as she lean'd 
Forth, and a shadow betwixt her lips like peace. 



VOICE OF URMAEL. 

The slender hazels asked the Yew like night 

Beside the river-green of Lisnacaun : 
" Who is this woman, beautiful as light, 

Sitting in dolour on thy branched lawn, 
With sun-red hair entangled as with flight 

Sheening the knees up to her bosom drawn ? 
Wliat miry horses these so thirstily 
Bellying the hush pool with their nostrils wide? " 
And the Yew old as the long mountain side 
Answered, '' I saw her hither with Clan Usnach ride." 

" Come, love, and climb with me Findruim's woods 
Alone," lie prayed; and up through broom and bent 

Strown with swift-travelling shadows of their woods, 
Leaving below the camp's thin cries, they went. 

And never a tress escaping from her snoods 
Made the brown river with a kiss content — 

So safe he raised up Deirdre through the ford. 

Thanks, piteous Gods, that no foreboding gave 

He should so bear her after to the grave 

Breasting the phantom ice, breasting the druid wave. 

" O, bear me on," she breathed, " for ever so! " 
And light as notes the Achill Shepherd plays 

On his twin pipes, they wanton'd, light and slow, 
Up the broad valley. Birds sail'd from the haze 



20 DEIRDRE WED. 

Far up, where naked copses overgrow 

Scarps of the white cHff from his river'd base. 
Diaphaneity of earth and spirit 
In those new-budded coombes did greenly reign, 
And many a mountain's leaping flank was plain 
Through branches fine, elixired every vein. 

But when an upward space of grass — so free 

And joyous — beckon'd to the realms of wind 
Deirdre broke from his side, and airily 

Fled up the slopes flinging her scoff behind; 
And paused and round a little vivid tree 

The wolf-skins from her neck began to bind. 
Naois watch'd below this incantation 
Then upward on his javelin's length he swung 
To catch some old crone's ditty freshly sung, 
Bidding that shoot be wise, for yet 'twas young. 

With glance for glance, thus ever up and on 
They paced, regardless of the world outrolled. 

Their ears dinned by the breeze's clarion 

That quicks the blood while yet the cheek is cold. 

Great whitenesses rose past them — brooks ran down- 
And step by stq^ Findruim bare and bold 

Uplifted. So a swimmer is uplifted 

Horsed on a streaming shoulder of the Sea, 

Our yeasty master, who to such as we 

Tosses some hour of glittering mastery. 

On tliem out of the zenith swoop to sting 

Feathery voices, keen and soft and light: 
'' Mate ye as eagles mate, that on the iving 



DEIRDRE WED. 21 

Grapple — heaven-high — hell-deep, for yours is 
night. 
Souls like the granite candles of a king 

Flaming unshook amid the noise of night, 
What of pursuit, that you to-day should fear it? " 
Pursuit they reck'd not, save of wind that pours 
Surging and urging on to other shores 
Over the restless forest of a thousand doors. 



*' Deirdre," he cried, " the blowing of thy hair 
Is of the clouds that everlasting stream 

Forth from dark castles of those islands rare 
Black in the rugged-misted ocean's gleam 

And glimpsed by Iceland galleys as they fare 
Northward." But in her bosom's open seam 

She set the powdered yew-sprig silently. 

" Speak not of me nor give my beauty praise 

Whose beauty is to follow in thy ways 

So that my days be numbered with thy days." 

In the high pastures of that boundless place 
Their feet wist not if they should float or run; 

They turned, at earth astonished face to face, 
Deeming unearthly blessedness begun. 

And slow, mid nests of running larks, they pace 
To drink from the recesses of the sun 

Tremble of those wings that beat light into music. 

There the world's ends lay open : open wide 

The body's windows. What shall them divide 

Who have walked once that country side by side? 



2 2 DEIRDRE WED. 

She mused, " O, why doth happiness too much 
Fountains of blood and spirit seem to fill ? 

The woods overflowing cannot bear that such 
An hour should be so sweet and yet be still ; 

Even the low-tangled bushes at a touch 
Break into wars of luting thrill on thrill. 

son of Usnach, bring me not thy glories ! 
Bring me defeats and shames and secret woe, 
That where no brother goeth I may go 

And kneel to wash thy wounds in caverns chill and 
low." 

'' Here, up in sight of the woofVl shine of sea " 
(He sang), " once after hunting, by the fire 

1 knelt and kindling brushwood raised up thee, 

Deirdre, nor wist the star of my desire 
Should ever walk Findruim's head with me 

Far from a king's loud house and soft attire. 
Fain would I thatch us here a booth of hazels. 
Thatch it with drift and snow of sea-gulls' wings. 
And thy horn'd harp should w^onder to its strings, 
' What spoil is it to-night Naois brings ? ' 

" But list," quoth he, when scarce those words were 
gone 

(A neck of the bare down it was, a ledge 
Of wind-sleek turf, the lovers roam'd upon 

And sent young rabbits scuttling to the edge 
Of underwoods beneath), "' I think that yon 

Some beast — haply a stag — takes harbourage." 
And Deirdre, at a word come back from troublings 



/ 



DEIRDRE WED. 23 

Of bliss too close to pain, plucked with no fear 
Out of his hand the battle-painted spear 
And, questing swiftly down the pasture sheer, 

Enter'd the yew's black arch; thick and profound 
The green-lit air, and there as seeking fresh 

Enemies, one haunch pressed against the ground 
The gray boar slewed, tusking the tender flesh 

Of shoots, his ravage- whetted bulk around : 
But when his ear across the straggling mesh 

Of feathered sticks report of Deirdre found. 

He lunged, he snorted; from his jaws like wine 

Foam dripped; along the horror of his spine 

The bristles grew up like a ridge of pine. 

Mortals, the maiden deem.ed that guise a mask; 

Believed that in that beast sate to ensnare 
He of the red eye ; little need to ask 

The druid- wrinkled hide, the sluttish hair. 
1 his was to escape — how vain poor passion's task — 

Connachar of the illimitable lair ! 
He crash'd at her; she heaved the point embrowned 
In blood of dragons. Heavily the Boar 
Grazed by the iron, reel'd, leapt, charged once more. 
And thrice in passage her frail vesture tore. 

As when a herd-boy lying on the scar 

(Who pipes to flocks below him on the steep 

Melodies like their neckbells, wandering far. 
Cool as the running water, soft as sleep) 

Flings out a stone from peril to debar 

And from the boulder'd chasm recall his sheep — 



24 DEIRDRE WED. 

So with a knife Naois leapt and struck. 
Strange ! in the very fury of a stride, 
The grey beast, Hke a phantom from his side, 
Scathelessly plunged to thickets undescried. 

Naois sheathed his iron without stain 

And laughed — " This shall be praised in revels mad 
Around Lug's peak wdien women scatter grain 

Upon the warriors. Why shouldst thou be sad. 
Pale Victory? " But she, '' Ah, thus again 

Ere night do I imperil thee, and add 
Burden to burden." And he strove to lead her 
From grief and said, "What, bride! thy raiment 

torn? " 
" Content thee, O content thee, man of scorn; 
ril brooch it with no jewel but a thorn ! " 

They seek down through the Wood of Awe that liems 
Findruim like the host about his grave, 

Dusk with the swarth locks of ten thousand stems 
In branchless poise. These make no rustle save 

Some pine-cone dropp'd or murmur that condemns 
Murmur; benumb'd with moss that giant nave. 

But let Findruim shake out overhead 

His old sea-sigh, and when it doth arrive 

At once their tawny boles become alive 

Wth flames that come and go, and they revive 

The north's Fomorian rear. " I am enthrall'd," 

He said, " as by the blueness of a ray, 
That, dropping through this presence windy- wal I'd, 

Burns low about the image of a spray. 



DEIRDRE WED. 25 

Of some poor beech- spray, witch' d to emerald. 

Wih thou not dance, daughter of heaven, this day 
Here at last free ? Fbr here no moody raindrop 
Can reach thee, nor betrayer overpeer, 
And none the self-delightful measure hear 
That thy soul moves to, quit of mortal ear." 

Full loth she pleads, yet cannot him resist 
And on the enmossed lights begins to dance : 

Away, away far-floating like a mist 
To fade into some leafy brilliance. 

Then, smiling to the inward melodist. 

Over the printless turf with slow advance 

Of showery footsteps, makes she infinite 

That crowded glen. But quick, possessed by strange 

Rapture, wider than dreams her motions range 

Till to a span the forests shrink and change. 

And in her eyes and glimmering arms she brings 
Hitlier all promise — all the unlook'd-for boon 

Of rainbow'd life — all rare and speechless things 
That shine and swell under the brimming moon. 

Who shall pluck tympans ? For what need of strings ? 
To waft her blood v/ho is herself the tune, 

Herself the warm and breathing melody? 

Art come from the Land of the Ever-Young? O stay! 

For his heart, after thee rising away. 

Falls dark and spirit-faint back to the clay. 

Griefs, like the yellow leaves by winter curled, 

Rise after her, long-buried pangs arouse 
About that bosom the gray forests whirl'd 



26 DEIRDRE WED. 

And tempests with her beauty might espouse. 
She rose with the green waters of the world 

And the winds heaved with her their depth of boughs. 
Then vague again as blows the beanfield's odour 
On the dark lap of air she chose to sink 
As, winnowing with plumes, to the river-brink 
The pigeons from the cliff come down to drink. 

Sudden distraught, she listened, and so ceased; 

Wan as a bride, whom cunning faery strain 
Forth from the trumpet-bruited spousal feast 

Steals. Soon she beckon'd him, and quick with pain 
He ran, he craved at those white feet the least 

Pardon; nor, till he felt her hand again 
Descend flake-soft, durst spy that she was weeping 
Or kneel with burning murmurs to atone. 
For sleep she wept. Long fasting had they gone 
And ridden from the breaking of the dawn. 

It chanced that waters, nigh to that selve grove, 

From Sleep's own lake as from a cauldron pass; 
He led towards their sound his weary love 
And lay before her in the fresh of grass 
Where with the white cirque of the cliffs above 

She sate against a rowan stem there was. 
vSpray from the threads of water spilling over 
The weir of rock their fever'd cheeks bewet, 
And to its sound a voiceless bread they ate 
And drank the troth that is unbroken yet. 

Out in the mere — brown — unbesilvered now 
By finest skimming of the elfin breeze — 



DEIRDRE WED. 27 

An isle was moor'd with rushes at its prow 

And fraught with haze of deeply-mirror'd trees. 

And knowing Deirdre still was mindful how 
The boar yet lived, — that she might sleep at ease 

Naois swore to harbour on that islet. 

Nine strides he waded in, on footings nine 

Felt under water, till his basnet' s shine 

Sank to the cold lips of the lake divine. 



Divine, for once the sunk stones of that way 
Approached the pool-god, and the outermost 

Had been the black slab whereon druids slay 
With stoop and mutter to the water's ghost. 

But since, to glut some whim malign, the fay 
Had swell'd over the flags. Of all the host 

Few save Naois, and at sore adventure, 

Had ta'en this pass. But who would not have press'd 

Through straits by the chill-fingered fiend possess'd 

To bear unto that isle Deirdre to rest ? 

" Seal up thy sight. My shield of iron rims 

Unhook — Cast in my broken helm for spoil." 
'Twas done, and then with rush of cleaving limbs 

He swam and bore her out with happy toil 
Secret and fierce as the flat otter swims 

Out of the whistling reeds as if through oil. 
And Deirdre, whiter than the wave-swan floating, 

Smiled that he sufi'ered her no stroke to urge. 
At length they reach the gnarl'd and ivied verge 
And from the shallows to the sun emerge. 



2 8 DEIRDRE WED. 

She spreads her wolf-skins on the rock that glows 
And sun-tears wrings out of the heavy strands 
Of corded hair. He, watching to the close, 

Sees not the white silk vesture as she stands 
Clinging beduU'd to the clear limbs of rose. 

She turn'd and to him stretch'd misdoubting hands: 
" Tell me, ere thou dissolve, O wordless watcher. 
Am I that Deirdre that would sit and spin 
Beside Keshcorran? Dost thou love me? Then 
I touch thee. For I, too, have love within." 

O sacred cry ! Again, again the first 

I.ove cry ! How the steep woods tliirst for thy voice, 
O never-dying one ! That voice, like the outburst 

And gush of a young spring's delicious noise 
Driven from the ancient heights whereon 'twas nursed. 

Yet, as death's heart is silent, so is joy's. 
His mouth spake not ; for as in dusk Glen Treithim 
Smelters of gold, they say, bear not to breathe 
Reek of the lovely fumes whose hissings wreathe 
The brim, he choked at his own spirit's seethe. 



Sternly he looked on her and strangely said, 

'' What touch is this? * It hath unearthly powers, 

I think thou art the woman Cairbre made 
Out of the dazzle and the wind of flowers. 

Behold the flame-like children of the shade, 
The buds, about thee rise like servitors. 

It seems I had not lipped the cup that liveth 

Till thou didst stretch it out. Vaguely I felt 



DEIRDRE WED. 29 

Irreparable waste. Why hast thou dwelled 
Near me on earth so long, yet unbeheld? " 

Chanters ! The Night brings night the deeps far off, 
But the Twilight shows the distance of the Near, 

And with a million dawns that pierce above 
Mixes the soul of suns that disappear, 

To make man's eyes approach the eyes of love 
In simpleness, in mystery and fear. 

All blooms both bright and pale are in her gardens. 

All chords, both shrill and deep under her hand. 

Who, sounding all the richness of the land, 

Estrangeth all, that we may understand. 

So still it v/as, they heard in the evening skies 
Creak of two eagles' wing-feathers afar 

Coasting the gray cliffs. On him slowly rise, 
As to Cuchullain came his signal star 

Out of the sheeted rivers, Deirdre's eyes. 

/\nd v/ho Icok'd in them well was girt for war, 

Seeing in that gaze all who for love have perished : 

llie queens calamitous unbow'd at last — 

The supreme fighters that alone stood fast — 

Fealties obscure, unwitness'd, and long past, 

Cloud over cloud — the host that hath attained 

Tlirough love — their very essence, force, heat, 
breath — 

Arose, arose in Deirdre's eyes and deign'd 

Summons to him — " Canst follon' us? " it saith — 

Till from that flash'd contagion he hath gained 
An outlook like to conquest over death. 



30 DEIRDRE WED. 

Then he discerns the solemn-rafter'd world 
By this frail brazier's glowings, wherein blend 
Coals that no man hath kindled, without end 
Born and reborn from ashes to ascend. 

And face to face to him unbared she cleaves 

Strong through scarce-breathing, rapt from day and 
night, 

Rapt as the fair-brow'd priestess, Earth, receives 
In all her lochs and plains and rivers bright 

And shores wide-trembling, where one image heaves. 
Him that is lord of silence and of light. 

Slow the God sigh'd himself from rocks and waters, 

But in his soft withdrawals from the air 

No creature in the weightless world was there 

Uttered its being's secret round the pair. 

And them had Passion's self-enshrouding arm 

Taken, as a green fury of ocean takes 
Through the dense thickets smitten with alarm 

To the islet's tranced core. And Deirdre wakes 
Lifting hot lids that shut against the stomi. 

Lying on a hillock, amid slender brakes 
Of gray trees, to the babble of enchantments 
From mouths of chill-born flowers. The place was 

new 
To rapture. Branched sunbursts plashing through 
After, had laid the mound with fire and dew. 

Naois cuts down osiers. Now he seeks 

A narrow grass-plot shorn as if with scythe, 
And over two great bouklcrs' wrinkled cheeks 



DEIRDRE WED. 31 

Draws down and knots a hull of saplings lithe 
Well-staunch'd with earthy-odour'd moss, and sticks 

Known to the feet of birds. This darkness blithe 
He frames against the stars for forest sleepers. 
The living tide of stars aloft that crept 
Compassioned far below. No wavelet leapt : 
And deep rest fell upon them there. They slept. 

Long still the melancholy mountains lay, 

And fitful-rippling shades that isle enwound. 
Naois fell through dream to dream, as may 

Some twig from branch to branch ere rest is found. 
And while from headlands scarce a league away 

The din of the sea-breakers come aground 
Rolled up the valley, he in vision felt 
His currach frail under Dun Aengus sweep — 
Triumphing with his love, and leap on leap 
Draw past by the ocean shelves of seals asleep, 

But over starred peat-water where the flag 
Rustles, and listens for the scud of teal : 
Over coast, forest, and bethunder'd crag, 

Night, mother of despair, who proves the steel 
In men, to see if they be dross and slag, 

Or fit v.ith trusts and enemies to deal 
Uneyed, alone — diffusing her wide veils 
Bowed from the heavens unto a mortal's ear : 
'' A questioner awaits thee. Wake! " The mere 
Slept on. save for the twilight-footed deer. 

" Those antlered shadows of the forest roof 
Nigh to the shore must be assembled thick," 



32 DEIRDRE WED. 

He thought, ''and bringing necks round to the hoof, 

Or being aslaked and couching, seek to hck 
The fawns ; some heady bucks engage aloof, 
So sharp across the water comes the chck 
Of sparring horns." But was it a vain terror, 
Son of the sword, or one for courage staunch 
That the herd, dismayed, at a bound, wnth a quivering 

haunch 
Murmur'd away into night at the crack of a branch ? 

And Deirdre woke. Reverberate from on high 
Amongst the sullen hills, again there fell 

A mournful cry, like to the broken cry 

From the house of hostage in some citadel 

Of hostages lifting up their agony 

After the land they must remember well. 

'' Deirdre is gone. Gone is the little Deirdre ! " 

And she, knowing not the voice as voice of man, 

Stood up. " Lie still, lest thee the spirit ban; 

O vein of life, lie still ! " But Deirdre ran 

Like the moon through brakes, and saw where nought 
had been 

On the vague shore what seemed a stone that stood 
Faceless, rough-hewn, it forward seemed to lean 

Like the worn pillar of Cenn Cruaich the Good. 
She cried across, '' If thou with things terrene 

Be number'd, tell me why thy sorrowful blood 
Mourneth, O Cathva, father! " But the stone 
Shiver'd, and broke the staff it leaned upon, 
Shouting, '' What, liv'st thou yet? Begone, begone! " 



VOICE OF FINTAN. 

Yet to the two enwrapped in island trees 
The third across the water cried, '' Speak once ! 
Though the earth shake beneath you Uke a sieve 
With rumble of the end — one thing I ask. 
Naois, did she understand his hate 
Whose arm of storm environs your weak flittings 
Through me, that blow away the gaze and smile 
From human faces? Ah! had she but known 
Mourning all night the fading of her kingdoms 
Fled like a song — What means ' a banished man '; 
That he and I must hound thee to the death : 
That thou shalt never see the carven beams, 
Familiar with the tender noise of doves, 
In thy fair mother Usnach's house again, 
But drift out, like some sea-bird, far, far, hence : 
Far from the red isle of the roes and berries : 
Far from sun-galleries and pleasant duns 
And swards of lovers, branded nationless. 
That none of all thy famous friends, with thee 
Wrestlers on Eman in the summer evenings, 
Shall deem thee noble still ; and that at last 
I must upheave thy heart's tough plank to crack it ; 
Knowing all this, would this fool follow thee? " 
Then spoke Naois, keeping anger down, 

LofC. 



34 DEIRDRE WED. 

*' Strange is it one so old should threat with death. 

Are not hoth thou and I, are not we all 

Sealed v;ith the thumb of Death vrhen we are born ? 

As for friends lost (though I believe thee not), 

A man is nourished by his enemies 

No less than by his friends. And as for her; 

Because no man shall deem me 'noble still — 

Because I, like a sea-gull of the isles, 

May be driven forth — sleepless and nationless, — 

Because I may no more perhaps behold 

The carven beams in my fair mother's house 

And hear the noise of doves; because the powers 

Controlling fortune break upon my head — 

Yes; for that very cause, lacked other cause, 

In love the closer, quenchless, absolute, 

Would Deirdre choose to follow me. Such pains. 

Old man, the kingdoms are of souls like hers." 

He spoke; he knew the life-blood at his side 

Sprung of the west, beyond vs-hich no land lies — 

Beating " look forth on everlastingness ! 

Through the coiled waters and the death of light 

ril be tliy sail ! " The figure by the reeds 

Spoke not; the echo-trembling tarn grew mute. 

But when through matted forests with uproar 

11ie levy of pursuers, 1:)razen, vast. 

Gushed like a river; and torched chariots drew 

With thunder-footed horses on, and swept 

Up to the sedge, and at the Druid's shape 

Their steamy bellies reared over the brink, 

Pav.-ing the mist : and when a terrible voice 

Asked of that shape if druid ken saw now 



DEIRDRE WED. 35 



he lovers, — in the changeless Isle of Sleep 
or Deirdre nor Naois answer heard; 
nd like a burning dream the host passed by, 
ill on the pale shore not a man remained. 



Herbert Trench 



THE ROCK OF CLOUD. 

From Youghal of the yew strand 

Into the north we sailed, 
But nine nights outward from the land 

When all the sea was veiled, 

We heard a chanting in the fog 
On the frore plain of the sea, 

And stayed the galley like a log 
To sound that mystery. 

And three went up into the bow 
And hailed the curling rack : 

" What demon or what spirit thou? " 
And the lone voice came back. 

Came, as of one so evil-starred 
That he hath done with grief. 

In monotone as keen and hard 
As the bell swung from a reef : 

" Human I am — would I were foam ! 

Row hither : ye may hear, 
Yet shall not save, nor bring me home, 

Seek ye a thousand year." 



38 THE ROCK OF CLOUD. 

" Keep a stout hope." '' I keep no hope." 
'" Man alive! " " Spare your toil." 

^' We are upon thee! " " Nay, no rope 
Over the gap shall coil." 

'' Who art thou? " '' I was Pilot once 

On many a ship of mark; 
Went aboard — spoke to none — but steered; 

And dropt off in the dark. 

" But one night — Christ ! — We struck — we sank. 

I reached this rock of wings 
Whereby from every boulder's flank 

The long sea-ribbon swings. 

'' Here, while the sole eye of the Sun 

Did scorch my body bare 
A great Sea-Spirit rose; and shone 

In the water thrilled with hair. 



'' She lay back on the green abyss 

Beautiful; her spread arms 
Soothed to a poise — a soId — of bliss 

Its thunders and alarms. 

*' Her breasts as pearl were duU and pure; 

Her body's secret light 
Swam like a cloud. Her eyes unsure 

From the great depths were bright. 



THE ROCK OF CLOUD. 39 

*' There was no thing of bitterness 

In aught that she could say; 
She called my soul as down a coast 

The Moon calls bay beyond bay, 
And they rise, — back o' the uttermost — 

Away, and yet away. 

" ' I chose thee from the sinking crews, 

I bore thee up alive ; 
Now durst thou follow me and choose 

Under the world to dive ? 

" ' Come ! we will catch when stars are out 

The black wave's spitting crest. 
And still, w^hen the Bull of Dawn shall spout, 

Be washing on abreast. 

'' ' Or thee under the bulky seas 

Paven with suns I'll hide, 
Deathless and boundless, and at ease 

In any shape to glide. 

" ' All waters that on Earth have welled 

At last to me repair; 
All mountains starred with cities melt 

Into my dreamy air. 

'^ ' Set on thy peak under the brink, 

ril show thee clouds above, 
The stuff of kingdoms. They shall sink 



40 THE ROCK OF CLOUD. 

While thou dost teach me love; 
On beaches white as the young Moons 
I'll sit and fathom love.' " 

" And zvhat saidst thou? " " From over sea 
I felt a sad sigh burn 
That made this bed of rock to me 
More delicate than fern. 

'' And faint as moth-wings I could hear 

Tops of the pine-tree sway 
And the last words spoken in mine ear 

Before the break of day; 

" And I cried out, sore, sore at the heart 
For her that sleeps at home, 

' Brightness, I will not know thine art, 
Nor to thy country come.' 

" Straightway she sank — smiling so pale — 
But from the seethe up-broke — 

Never thrashed off by gust or gale — 
An everlasting smoke : 

" A mist no life may pass, save these 
Wave-winged, with shrieking voice: 

Stars I discern not, nor the seas " — 
'' O, dost not rue thy choice f " 

" Rue it ? Now get back to the Deep, 

For I doubt if men ye be. 
And I will keep a steady helm 

By the star I cannot see." 



THE ROCK OF CLOUD. 41 

Passion o' man ! We sprang to oars, 

And sought on, weeping loud. 
All night in earshot of the shores 

But never through the cloud. 

Herbert Trench. 



SHE COMES NOT WHEN THE NOON IS 
ON THE ROSES. 

She comes not when the Noon is on the roses, 

Too bright is Day. 
She comes not to the Soul till it reposes 

From work and play. 

But when Night is on the hills, and the great Voices 

Roll in from Sea, 
By starlight and by candlelight and dreamlight 
She comes to me. 

Herbert Trench. 



43 



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